Bicycle Race
by V. Gainsborough
Summary: Though no one wants their secrets to be discovered, the Agency grapevine is rarely forgiving. Nor is one Alessa Capello. A companion piece to The Oddity's Showdown and Nachtsider's Memorabilia Morbosi!


And we all thought that the Showdown saga had ended... As of Nachtsider's Memorabilia Morbosi, however, it is apparently back on! Oh, goodness me, I simply couldn't resist the challenge. So! Liesel's chillin' with Alessa's and Clarice's scalps and the former goes for a visit to get it back. Ridiculousness ensues?

Oh, and Mr. Nachtsider, do continue! I even gave you a starting point and everything.

Anyway, that's all. I present...

**Bicycle Race**

Twenty minutes of haphazard searching through her closet and she still hadn't found it yet. Even worse, something was slipping out through the gaping opening in her skull, and she had a sinking suspicion that they were brains. "Icky," she whined, a look of utmost disgust across her childlike features. She really couldn't go out like this, and without a suitable hat to cover her head (or what was left of it, at least), she'd never get anything done.

Frowning deeply, Alessa glanced over her shoulder at the man who would be accompanying her. He stood slouched in the doorway of her dorm room, his expression a mix of boredom and exhaustion. "Raniero," she called out to him pleadingly, "make her give it back."

Raniero gulped, his gaze shifting this way and that, seemingly anywhere but his cyborg. "I don't know," he answered noncommittally. Then, nervously, he added, "You know, when Abele went in to barter for his girl's..."

"Yes, yes," Alessa spoke over him, waving her gloved hand airily. She'd heard all about it from the Agency grapevine, and it was her own belief that the scare he got from Liesel that day was what triggered his rather abrupt mental breakdown. The poor fool! "But you _have_ to! Pretty please?"

He looked horrified. Shakily, he handed her a wad of money. "Think you can get it back with this?"

She beamed. "I'm sure it'll do. Now, which hat do you like better?"

---

Checking her appearance in the mirror one last time, Alessa blew a kiss at her reflection and smiled, pleased. The plain white bowler hat she had hated so terribly before was doing quite nicely now. "It gets the job done, don't you think, Raniero?" she asked sweetly.

He heaved a sigh, not even bothering to look up. "It's lovely."

Still facing the mirror, she turned at an angle, observing her reflection intently. After a moment, she went on, "But when am I not?"

Unenthusiastically, he answered, "Your beauty is akin to that of a goddess and you are therefore consistently fabulous without fail."

"Why, thank you!" She swiveled around, smirking triumphantly. "All right, I think we're done here. Off we go!"

Another long-suffering sigh. Raniero climbed on their two-seated, blindingly pink bicycle and Alessa hopped on behind him, taking care to arrange her dress properly. "Away!" she commanded, pointing straight ahead.

_The bike gives her even more of an entitlement complex,_ Raniero thought bitterly. He pedaled.

---

On the table in Liesel's room sat two scalps, "gifts" of a sort from recent visitors to her place of residence. Truly, she adored them — currently, they were her most prized possessions. The dried blood and gunpowder residue made them rather vintage and tasteful, she thought.

She inspected them closer and frowned. The hair that had previously rested upon the head of that ugly girl, Clarice, however, was hideously frayed and split. Nonetheless, the two made for nice centerpieces.

There was a sudden commotion outside, jarring Liesel out of her thoughts. Why, it sounded like squabbling. Checking the time on her classy grandfather clock, her mouth hung agape, shocked. It was seven o' clock in the morning and far too early for tasteless bickering right outside her door, whether she was awake or not!

Leaving her beloved scalps to themselves momentarily, she walked across her room to the door, wrenching it open and glowering. There, a few feet away from her, stood a fair, petite girl, holding a parasol over her head. With her was what seemed to be her handler, a lanky, dark-haired man.

"You're trying to ruin me, aren't you?" Liesel heard her shriek. She was holding on to rim of her hat with her free hand, almost protectively. Liesel couldn't understand why she bothered — her choice of headgear was incredibly tasteless, in her (quite refined) opinion.

"Me?" he yelled in exasperation. "The wind carried it away! Walk like a normal person if you don't want the world to know why you're wearing it in the first place! Why do I have to carry you around everywhere, anyway?"

"Have you no manners at all?" she shot back, tears springing to her eyes. "Ladies should be treated with respect!"

Liesel looked from the girl to the scalp sitting in her room. _Oh! It's Alessa. I do recall her now. What magnificent hair she has! Had._

"Ahem," Liesel finally spoke. She couldn't let them go on forever, of course.

They glanced up in unison, eyes wide. Alessa was the first to recover, striding up confidently. "How wonderful it is to see you this morning!" she greeted her, extending a delicate hand cordially. "It is I, Alessa Capello, if you've forgotten me already."

Liesel heard a groan from behind her. She could only assume he wasn't entirely pleased at Alessa having adopted his surname. Still, she was slightly wary to shake the girl's hand, after what had happened the last time she had so naively taken hold of it...

With a slight grimace, she grasped the blonde's hand, and, as she'd expected, walked straight into her trap. Her pale hand was caught in a death grip, and she could see Alessa smirk in sheer devilish glee as she crushed the fingers. "Rather like the times of old, isn't it?" Liesel managed to choke out.

Seemingly bored, Alessa eventually let go and simpered. "Isn't it just? But I have some business to discuss with you. May we come in?"

Even throughout her attempted persuasion, she still stood on the tips of her toes, seemingly trying to peek past Liesel and into her tastefully decorated home. Liesel took this opportunity to note her choice of shoes. _Boots?_ How peculiar for a girl who always dressed in the most demure and cute of attire. How peculiar... or should she say, suspicious.

Regardless, they were a nice pastel pink color. They matched her dress.

"Yes... yes," Liesel eventually relented, "come in." Stepping aside to let her guests through, she shut and locked the door behind them before turning around to see Alessa inspecting the scalps.

"Look what she's done to it," she heard the annoying girl whisper to her handler dramatically. "Why, she hasn't cleaned it, or dusted it, or —"

"Excuse me," Liesel interrupted them coldly for the second time that morning. "Do step away from them, _if you please._ They are fragile."

"Ah, yes, please forgive me," Alessa answered sweetly, her apologetic tone ringing false. She and Raniero obliged to Liesel's wishes and sat down at the table.

"What is it that you want?" Liesel demanded stonily, beginning to lose patience.

Alessa noticed. She shot Raniero a glare, as if this was his fault. "Well," she began hurriedly, "I was wondering if we might be able to strike a deal for that _lovely_ scalp there." She spoke this request as if the thing had never rested atop her head, as if she only wanted it as some sort of bizarre souvenir. "I do have a fair sum of money, of course," she added, recalling what Raniero had given her before they left.

Liesel glowered at the pair of them, the irritation showing clearly in her face. "I am not accepting offers," she huffed.

"Oh?" Alessa frowned, feigning great disappointment. Liesel thought she saw a twisted sort of ambition in her eyes and scooted back a little just to be safe, unnoticed. "Not even..." She counted on her fingers for a moment before apparently giving up and concluding eagerly, "...a billion and a half euros?"

The color completely drained from Raniero's face and he seemed to go comatose, swaying back and forth on the spot dangerously. Alessa paid little mind, simply plucking a cushion from one of Liesel's several furniture pieces and laying it below his head before returning to her great business endeavor.

"No!" Liesel answered exasperatedly, on the verge of shouting, her patience officially depleted. "No! I will not!"

The smile vanished from Alessa's face and she sat back. "Oh, you won't, will you?" she murmured. "Then..."

She stood up, retrieving her lacy white parasol from where it had been sitting by her side as well. She seemed to be departing early — Liesel had to admit that she was surprised.

"...I'll have it _by force_!"

With that, she made a mad dash across the room for the scalp, grabbing it from its resting place and sprinting out the door.

Had Liesel been as tasteless and uncultured as the other girls at the Agency, she would have said something such as, "Oh no she di-in't!" However, Altheus had cautioned her against this horribly uncouth phrase long ago, and so she refrained, chasing after the thief in silence. Sorely, she made a note to ask him about battle cries once she had acquired her beloved possession once again.

Outside now, she glanced around, looking in agitation for the tastelessly pink bicycle Alessa and her handler had rode in on. It was nowhere to be found. Permitting herself to swear under these unfavorable circumstances (but only under her breath, not loud enough to be heard, of course), she took off down the path that bratty girl had almost certainly gone down. Sure enough, she caught sight of her after a short while.

Alessa, who had been glancing over her shoulder every minute or so, saw Liesel as well. "Get back!" she shrieked threateningly. "Get back, I say!"

She started to pedal faster and faster until her bicycle spun wildly out of control and crashed, its owner landing beside it. _Now is my chance!_ Liesel thought, speeding up.

A mix of panic and fury in her eyes, Alessa did the first thing she could think of. With Liesel only a yard away, she wrenched off one of her highly fashionable and ridiculously tall lolita boots, got a sturdy grip, and flung it with all her might.

There was a thud, a wail, and a peal of screeching, demented laughter from Alessa, who appeared to have snapped at some point during the whole misadventure. Remounting her bicycle, she pedaled wildly once again, the scalp she'd fought so hard for tight in her grip. She disappeared into the distance, her parasol twirling merrily over her head.

---

"It passed the time, I'm sure," Clarice said noncommittally over breakfast the next morning. "You have mine, yes?"

"Of course not!" Alessa snapped. She had been fidgeting with her newly reattached hair all day long and continued to twirl it around her finger now. "I didn't go there for _you_. Anyway, Raniero came back — I simply couldn't escape with him, it breaks my heart to think of how I left him back there! — and he brought yours."

"Good," was all she had to say in return. "Is that all?"

Alessa seemed slightly taken aback by this question. "...It was rather dull, in retrospect," she admitted, though not without her usual haughty tone. "But for some reason, Raniero still seems to think we owe that stupid Liesel girl some outrageous sum of money. Why, I don't remember that at all!"

But though the two thought it was over, Liesel remained in wait, cradling Alessa's bloody, abandoned boot to her chest. This time, she thought, there really ought to be a ransom...

_A billion and a half euros will do the trick nicely._


End file.
